


the sound of iron on stone

by sinequanon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-05 05:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10298105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Stiles rescues a fairy princess and is granted a wish in return. The wish itself is perfect; it's what comes after it that's horrible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back when I first started reading TW fanfiction, there were a lot of stories being written where the Hale pack was magically resurrected. Unfortunately, many of them were abandoned after only a chapter or two, so I decided to write one myself. 
> 
> Also, I've tagged this as Gen, but there are a couple of hints of Derek/Stiles, if you want to look at it that way.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles swore. The snarling was even closer than it had been five minutes ago, and Stiles was running out of energy, especially with a toddler in his arms. Allison was somewhere behind him, but if she didn't hurry up, he and the kid were going to be monster chow. He didn't dare look behind him, merely tucked the little girl further in his jacket and put on one last burst of speed, hoping for a miracle.

“Stiles, get down,” Allison yelled from somewhere to his left, and he barely had time to react before an arrow sailed right by him.

“Holy crap!” A hand shot out and grabbed his ankle, and Stiles thrust his hands out to catch himself before they hit the ground, smashing hard up against a tree. There was another thwack of an arrow, and the hand against his ankle fell away. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he unzipped his jacket and glanced inside, hoping that his passenger hadn't been injured in his brief run in with the tree.

As soon as Stiles pulled her out, the girl gave a happy cry and started giggling like their run through the forest was the most fun she’d ever had.

At least somebody was having a good time.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Allison asked, working her way toward them. She cooed when the toddler turned to her and held out her slobber-covered hand to for them to inspect. “We should get her back before they get offended and attack the pack or something.”

“All right, let's get you home, sweetheart,” he said, hefting her closer as Allison led them out of the forest, the little girl babbling all the way to the Hale house.

<> <>

That the first voice Stiles and Allison heard was Peter’s was not a good sign. The pair exchanged worried looks and moved a little faster. The girl fell quiet, too, as if even she could feel the tension in the air.

“...and I promise you that we did not steal your child.”

“We treated with you, and you have broken our agreement,” an angry male voice shouted.

“There is evidence of ogres in the area. Could one of them have taken her?” Peter asked carefully. “We mean no offense, Your Majesty.”

“How dare you,” the man said, “to imply we cannot care for our own--”

“It is possible,” the Queen interrupted, glaring the man into silence.

Naturally, that was the moment that Allison, Stiles, and the girl came into view.

The sight of so many predators suddenly focused on him might have squeezed a laugh out of Stiles if he had been even slightly interested in becoming a red smear on the ground. As it was, his underdeveloped sense of self-preservation kicked in and he stayed quiet as he moved toward the waiting group. Allison gave his shoulder a reassuring pat as he held the little girl out to the queen, who gave him an assessing gaze.

“How did you find my child?” she asked, and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't feel her voice cut through him all the way to his toes.

“I heard her crying,” he offered carefully. He could feel the pack was staring at him, but he didn't dare look away from the Queen. “My backyard butts up against the woods, and the ogre passed right by my house, so I followed it. Your Majesty, ma'am.”

“Lies!” the man yelled. “They attempted to steal our child--”

“ _Our child_?” The Queen turned toward the other man, eyes flashing. The guards behind her stirred restlessly. “May is my daughter, Eamon, not yours.”

“So that's your name, huh?” Stiles said to the girl who was still watching him curiously, even from her mother’s arms. “Hey, May!” he grinned and waved.

May giggled and swung her fist at him in a move that Stiles assumed was supposed be a wave.

The two babbled at each other until Stiles realized that everyone had focused on him again, and were watching the pair with various expressions. The Queen, he noted gratefully, was watching them with the tiniest smile on her face.

Eamon opened his mouth again, not doubt to complain about Stiles corrupting May or something equally stupid, but the Queen shot him a look and he shut his mouth with a click.

“I find it difficult to believe,” she began, “that my daughter would so enjoy the presence of one who meant her harm.” She turned back to Stiles--who had inched his way toward the rest of his pack while the Queen was glaring at Eamon--and nodded at him. “As a mother, I can never repay your kindness. As Queen, I grant you a gift. A boon, if you will.”

Stiles gulped. Everyone knew it was a bad idea to accept gifts from fairies, but what could he do? Insulting the Fairy Queen was almost as bad as stealing her baby. Not that he had stolen May, but that was beside the point.

“I'm flattered, Your Majesty, but there's nothing I really want,” he said slowly. It was true, too. Now that things had settled down again, life was pretty good. Barring things like books or tuition money, Stiles had no idea what he could want. His gaze slid over to his pack, who were still looking slightly flabbergasted by the whole situation.

Now the pack, they could use gifts: Lydia deserved to have control over her powers; Liam deserved to have a normal high school career; Scott deserved peace; Isaac deserved not to be afraid all of the time; Allison deserved a better family, and the Hales deserved to have their family, or at least a break from all of the suffering.

“Stiles?” Scott's voice jolted him out of his musings, and he turned back to the Queen with a wry smile.

“You are a fascinating young man, indeed.” She stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and a tingly, warm feeling started in his head and spread through his chest. “I gladly give you what you desire.” After a moment, she turned to Scott.

“We shall meet again, young alpha,” she said simply, and vanished.

“What did she give you?” Isaac asked.

“I think,” Stiles said slowly, “that she gave me everyone else's wishes.” Now that the danger had passed, he was exhausted. “I’ll explain in the morning.” If he was right, though, he knew he wouldn't need to explain. He’d find out in the morning what--if anything--had changed. He nodded to everyone, gave Allison a “thanks for saving my life” hug, and went home for a well-deserved night’s sleep.

<> <>

After a sandwich and a hot shower, Stiles was looking forward to crawling into his bed and staying there until his dad forced him out again. Unfortunately, it wasn't his dad waiting for him when he got out of the bathroom. It was Eamon.

The fairy was lurking in the corner of the room, not unlike certain werewolves, but Stiles had a feeling that Eamon wouldn't appreciate his witty banter.

“My sister may be blind, but I know that you stole that child,” the fairy hissed venomously.

“I really didn't--”

“So I will give you a _gift_ as well,” the prince continued as if he hadn't spoken. Stiles felt frozen as the man touched his forehead, just as the Queen had done, but this touch left him dizzy and weak. Eamon gave a cruel smirk. “I grant you the gift of time. You can save your friends, yes, but you cannot keep them. You will stand beside them, and watch them grow, but they will not know you.”

He vanished with a mocking wave.

It took about thirty seconds after the prince left for Stiles to start hyperventilating. He tried to call Allison, but his fingers felt thick and clumsy against the phone, so he wasn't sure if he’d dialed or not. He didn't have much time to think about it, though, before his vision grayed and he couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat.

Gradually, he became aware of a voice, and hands rubbing circles into his back. “It’s okay, I've got you. Deep breath, Stiles.”

Stiles choked in a stuttering breath.

“That's good,” the voice said. “Breathe in. And out.”

Each time got a little bit easier until Stiles could see Allison peering down at him with concerned eyes. “What happened?”

“The Queen,” he breathed, “she was going to give them all back, and make it better, but he--” Stiles let out a sob.

“Tell me what happened,” Allison said.

Stiles told her about his wishes for everyone, and how he thought that the fairy queen was going to bring the dead back, but that the queen’s brother had shown up and cursed him instead.

“I don't know what's going on happen.” His face crumpled and he clutched at his friend’s shoulders. “I'm sorry.”

Allison shook her head and hugged him back tightly. “No matter what he did, Stiles, I'm with you. I promise. I'm with you.”

<> <>

Stiles could tell something was different from the moment he opened his eyes. There were no monsters standing over his bed, no buzzing from his phone, so…

Maybe he was just freaking out over nothing. He had all of his limbs, so that was good, right? Inwardly kicking himself for panicking for no reason, he heaved himself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to wash his face, only to jerk back in surprise.

The face staring back in the mirror? Wasn't his anymore.

Or at least, it hadn't been for the last decade.

Holy crap. He was ten again.

Instead of being only a few months away from legal drinking age, he hadn't even gone through puberty yet. His dad was still nursing a broken heart, Scott's dad had just left, and Jackson only seventy percent disliked him at this point.

If memory served, Erica had been in the hospital most of this year, but Stiles had no idea where Isaac, Boyd, Allison, or Kira might be right now, and Derek and Peter would be at home with their family.

 _Oh_.

Right now, Derek and Peter were at home, with their family. In a house that was not burned down, but was full of actual living people.

_Okay. He could do this._

That stupid fairy may have literally taken away half of his life, but he still remembered being twenty. He could use the knowledge from before to change things. He could learn from his mistakes the last time and make things better.

Assuming that he wasn't going to keep getting younger until he was a baby, of course.

He finished his morning routine, ran downstairs for a quick breakfast, and then ran back upstairs to start planning. He took a second to mourn the loss of his evidence board before conceding to himself that knowledge of the future was much better kept in private, and digging around in the back of his closet for an empty spiral notebook instead.

First order of business was to write down everything he could remember about the last ten years about his life, and the supernatural, just in case. Once that was finished, he prioritized his goals. First, he needed to save the Hales. If he had his dates right, the fire would happen in a couple of weeks, so that took precedence. He wasn't sure how to go to the Hales without getting his throat ripped out but, well, he’d think of something. Second, he needed to help his dad, who was still drinking a lot. Third, he needed to help Scott get over _his_ dad. That should be pretty easy, since he’d already done it once. After that, he’d work on pulling all of his future friends and packmates together so he could keep an eye on them.

But first, a plan.

<> <>

Stiles spent the next three days holed up in his room, trying to figure out how to stop Kate Argent. The most straightforward way would be to approach Kate directly, but technically he was still a kid and she would wipe the floor with him. He couldn't go to his dad without proof that Kate was seducing Derek, and Stiles doubted he could get close enough to get the proof.

So. Stiles spent most of his time thinking of and rejecting plans. Call up Mr. Harris and warn him about Kate? He’d think it was a prank call. Tamper with Kate’s car somehow? Her henchmen probably had transportation, too. Cora was in his grade in school, though not in his class. Maybe he could try and talk to her?

Unfortunately, the one time he had attempted to approach Talia and Cora, he only made it halfway across the street toward them before a blinding pain nearly took him to the ground. The Hales, among others, saw him stumble and ran to the rescue, but his pain only increased the closer the Hales came to him. The moment Talia touched him, he arched up like a live wire, and the pounding got so bad he thought he was going to have an aneurysm. He was fairly certain he vomited on her shoes before passing out from the agony. He woke up in the hospital a day later, struck down by what he assumed was the fairy curse. If that was the case, he was probably going to have to find a way to stop the Hale fire without actually having any contact with the Hales.

Two days before the fire, Stiles was beside himself with worry. He had convinced his dad to drive him to the animal clinic under the guise of looking at the animals, but really in the hopes of somehow talking to Deaton. Unfortunately, as soon as the Stilinskis had stepped in the door, Stiles was hit with a wave of dizziness so powerful that he swayed on his feet. His dad guided him to a chair and shoved his head between his knees, waiting for it to pass, but the longer Stiles sat there, the worse he felt.

Stiles barely heard his dad apologize to Deaton before he was dragging him back outside to the car. Stiles fell asleep during the drive home, and didn't even wake up when his dad carried him inside. He slept for the rest of the day.

The day before the fire, Stiles picked up the phone to call the Hale house. He decided that he would just ask to speak with the alpha, tell her about Kate, and hopefully she would believe him because he didn't know what else to do. Only, as soon as someone answered--Derek, his mind supplied--on the other end of the line, he started choking. He had to hang up before Derek freaked out and called 911.

He was running out of options.

He considered trying to put up with the pain and going to the Hale house the next day to personally break the ash line, but if being around two Hales had put him in the hospital, he didn't want to know what a whole house full of them would do to his brain.

Really, there was only one option left, and it was the one that Stiles liked the least. Evidence or no, Stiles was going to have to tell his dad: about Kate, about the fire, and about the supernatural.

<> <>

If Stiles's life was a movie, him telling his dad about werewolves would go something like this: Stiles would slave away all day in the kitchen, making his dad a steak and potatoes dinner with apple pie for dessert. When his dad got home from work, the two of them would have a nice, quiet dinner, after which Stiles would sit his dad down and tell him about Kate and her plans. His dad would believe him, of course, but demand an explanation, and Stiles would calmly tell him everything. His dad would be shocked, surprised, and skeptical, but some sort of proof would present itself to help make Stiles's case. His dad would save the Hales, and Stiles could move on to the second goal on his list.

Stiles's life was not a movie. Officially, he wasn't supposed to use the stove without an adult, and he definitely wasn't inviting his neighbor Mrs. Spencer over to help him cook. Instead, he found himself eating a bowl of cereal and watching television when his dad walked in the door.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad greeted, dropping down beside him with a tired sigh.

“I have to tell you something.” There was no sense in drawing this out. If his dad didn't believe him, he’d need all the time he could get to come up with a last-minute plan.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, that's the problem.” His dad raised an eyebrow, and Stiles sighed. “I have a crazy story to tell you, and I need you to keep an open mind because people's lives are at stake.”

His dad looked openly concerned now. “Are you in danger, Stiles?”

“Not at the moment,” Stiles said, which was not nearly as reassuring as he seemed to think it was, if his dad's face was any indication. “Look, the last time I did this, it did not go well, but I promise you, I am not lying.”

He watched his dad put on his game face before he nodded for him to continue.

“Derek Hale has been seeing a much older woman by the name of Kate Argent. Tomorrow night, unless we stop her, she's going to trap most of the family in the house and burn it.”

His dad narrowed his eyes at him, as if waiting for the joke. When Stiles remained silent, however, he asked, “Setting aside how you know about this, what's her motive?”

Stiles took a deep breath. “Kate Argent is a werewolf hunter, and the Hales are werewolves.”

If this were a movie, the cricket sounds would have come in at this moment, chirping in the dead air. Instead, Stiles watched his dad's face go through shock, disbelief, and anger, only to settle back into shock when he saw the serious, almost defiant look on his son’s face.

“Werewolves?” his dad said after a moment, watching him carefully. “Why do I think it's worse than just werewolves?”

“‘Cause it always is,” Stiles mumbled. “Let's just deal with this first, and then I'll introduce you to the rest of the crazy.”

<> <>

Thanks to Stiles's tendency to look through his dad's case files, as well as the information he’d gotten during the hunt for Peter, Stiles was able to give an impressively accurate account of what would have been the Hale fire and its aftermath. As a result, his dad and three of the deputies managed to apprehend and subdue Kate and her associates with only minor injuries to themselves and the Hales.

The Sheriff didn't tell anyone about the role his son played in the rescue, or his own foreknowledge of the event.

When he got home later that night, Stiles crawled onto his dad's lap and spent close to an hour crying on his shoulder.

<> <>

The Sheriff took everything surprisingly well, even the information that his son was ten years older than he should have been. Knowledge of the existence of the supernatural brought them closer together, and helped pull the Sheriff out of the depression over his wife's death and refocus his attention onto his son, which was something that Stiles had never expected to happen.

With things between father and son going well, Stiles turned his attention to Scott. For a couple of months, Stiles practically lived at the McCall house, giving Scott whatever he needed to get over the loss of his father and doing his best to support Melissa as well. Spurred on by both Scott and Stiles, their parents went on one hilariously disastrous date in which they learned that neither was ready for romance and they definitely weren't interested in each other.

Life was...good.

The Sheriff and Stiles surreptitiously kept an eye on the supernatural dealings in Beacon Hills, the McCalls moved on, and the Hales did whatever they did with their lives. Stiles knew that Derek had eventually testified against Kate, but otherwise his dad did his best to keep Stiles's knowledge of the Hales to a minimum.

It was safer for Stiles, that way. And the Sheriff, despite Stiles's compulsive need to protect the people he loved, was going to work equally as hard to make sure that his son was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: the second (and final) part of this fic.
> 
> I'll see you then, and thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

On the first day of eighth grade, Stiles realized that he needed to start working on his fourth goal: pulling his packmates together. After all, he reasoned, if he could make them all friends before they started becoming werewolves (because there was no way that stupid fairy would not make that happen), then they wouldn't take it so hard when Stiles abandoned them all in high school. Better to have as much fun as he could now, before the inevitable, literal pain that would come when they joined the ranks of the supernatural. He had already let things with Jackson and Lydia fall by the wayside, and Jackson hated him about eighty-five percent of the time, now. He had to start making an effort to fix things.

Stiles decided to outline his plan to expand their friendship group to Scott that day at lunch. A cheeseburger (even a cafeteria one) would help ease Scott into what would otherwise be an unfathomable idea.

“I think we should adopt Isaac, Erica, and Boyd.”

“What? Why?” Scott asked, eyes wide. It was a well-established fact that Scott-and-Stiles were an unchanging, undeniable truth of the universe. Bringing other people into the equation was unnecessary, and not really something Scott wanted to consider.

For a moment, Stiles wished that things could stay the way they were, Scott and Stiles against the world, but there was no way that Eamon’s curse would let that happen. He sighed. “Because they are lonely people in need of assistance, and you might find out that you need them someday. We're not going to invite them home or anything, it's just lunch. We'll eat lunch, they’ll eat lunch, and we'll let nature take its natural course.”

There was a long pause. Stiles noticed that Scott had turned on his rescuing face, so he was considering it, at least.

“If nothing else, we need to befriend Isaac so we can talk his brother out of a possible career in the military. And Boyd, so we can maybe help with the babysitting.”

“Why do we want to be friends with Erica?”

“Because she's going to become terrifying in a few years, and we want to be on her good side.”

Scott squinted and tilted his head a bit, as if he was trying to picture a world in which Erica would be terrifying and coming up short which, at this point, was not surprising. Still, Scott would never be a bad friend and point this out.

“Okay, but, you're not trying to dump me as your best friend or anything, right?”

“Scott,” Stiles said seriously, “there is not a single universe in which I would not want to be your best friend.” He took a moment to stare his friend in the eye. “Believe me, if there is ever a time when I am not your best friend, something is seriously wrong.”

Unfortunately, if things played out the way they had before, in two years, “seriously wrong” was most assuredly going to happen.

<> <>

The next two years were simultaneously great and horrible. After a few weeks of wary acceptance, the future werewolves of Beacon Hills (or the FWBH, as Stiles was calling them in his head), were starting to come together. That winter break was one of the busiest (and most fun) Stiles had ever had, and he went back to school in January ready to start his campaign to win over Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin.

“They hate us, Stiles. Why would we even want to be friends with them?” Erica asked warily.

“Lydia is actually super smart, and Jackson isn't quite as horrible as he pretends to be.”

“So? Not that I'm not grateful, but why do you keep doing this? Are we planning for a war or something?” Isaac queried, and Stiles did not miss the thoughtful look that Boyd sent his way.

 _Or something_. “There's a lot more going on in this town than you know, dude. It's good to be prepared.”

It took nearly the rest of the school year and what was likely hundreds of dollars worth of aggressive friendship, but when Lydia Martin sat at their lunch table the last week of school (granted, with a look that said she wasn't quite sure what she was doing), Stiles had to force himself not to grin. By the beginning of freshman year, FWBH was as it should be, and Stiles focused all of his attention on helping them while he still had the chance.

_“Look, I'm the Sheriff's kid, Cam, I can see the signs. Take Isaac and get out. If you leave him behind, your dad’s going to take it out on him. Join the military if you want, but find a safe place for Isaac first.” “How old are you?” “Old enough, dude.”_

_“Of course, I'll help babysit. Little sisters are the best, man.”_

_“Jackson, just because they're not your birth parents doesn't mean they love you any less. They probably love you more because they specifically chose you, right?”_

_“Things are going to get better Catwoman, I promise. You’ll see.”_

_“You're a good person, Lydia Martin. Don't worry, though; I won't tell anybody.”_

_“Scott, don't steal all of the cookies. Those are for everyone. Besides, I made you your own batch.”_

Four months before the onslaught of werewolfiness, things started falling apart for Stiles, mostly in the form of Viola Hale, human daughter of Talia and Patrick Hale.

Stiles had found, via careful experimentation over the years, that small, repeated exposure to the Hales, while still painful, would not send him to the hospital. Thus, Stiles could be in a classroom with Cora and mostly ignore the buzzing in his head as long as he didn't have to talk to her. With Viola and other human members of the Hale pack, it was like thousands of ants crawling across his skin: not painful, but really, really uncomfortable.

So when Scott and Stiles arrived for a movie night at Erica's to find Viola chatting on the couch, Stiles felt his heart sink. The beginning of the end had finally arrived. After a night of pretending that everything was fine (that he was absolutely sure both Lydia and Boyd saw through), he drove home and promptly had one of the biggest panic attacks of his life.

He woke up in bed, his dad stroking his hair.

“They're not all going to turn at the same time, are they?” his dad asked quietly.

“They didn't the first time, but since Peter's not the alpha, who knows?” Stiles let his dad prop him up and leaned into the other man's warmth. “But I can't just hang out with some of them, and avoid the rest. It's going to need to be a clean break.”

“I don't want to see you get hurt, kid. Not if I can help it.”

“Dad,” he whined, “I know Isaac's brother, and Boyd’s sister. I never met them in the other life.” He gave a half-sob and buried his face into his dad's shirt. “I'm probably making this worse. I'm a horrible person.”

“Stiles, listen to me. Are you listening?” His son gave a wary nod. “You have been put in an impossible situation, and rather than give up, you have made the most of it. Every time I see Talia in the grocery store, or any of the other people we’ve quietly helped over the years, I remember that _you did that_. Your knowledge, your drive, and your compassion have made this town better. I couldn't be more proud of you.” The Sheriff paused. “If you want to move--”

“No, I have to wait for Allison!” Stiles said quickly. “If it doesn't work, though, maybe…”

Maybe he would try to live somewhere else for awhile. Knowing his luck, though, the curse would extend to all supernatural creatures everywhere, and he would accidentally end up dead due to some random encounter that he hadn't been through the first time around. He clutched his dad harder and didn't even argue when the man ordered pizza for dinner.

<> <>

Less than a month after Stiles had his panic attack, Scott was attacked. Over the next month, the rogue alpha also got Jackson and Lydia, who was discovered to be a banshee. Scott, who couldn't keep a secret to save his life, was quickly found out by both the rest of their friends and the Hales, who took the entire group under their wing. Erica asked for the bite within a week of meeting them.

Stiles tried to stay with them, he really did. He spent time with Scott and did his best to ignore the sensation of what felt like someone crushing his heart every time his best friend was near. He took to eating lunch outside, or hiding in the library, because he felt ill just sitting at the table with his newly supernatural friends.

It was a little easier with Isaac and Boyd, who hadn't become werewolves yet, but his interactions with them were becoming more and more awkward. Movie nights were hell with Scott's tendency to crowd next to Stiles and throw an arm around his shoulders, and Stiles didn't dare go to the Hale house. He knew that everyone thought that he was either afraid of werewolves or thought they were monsters (an assumption that was wrongly supported when a close encounter with Derek left him breathless and shaking), but he couldn't do anything to fix it except watch his friends slowly slip away.

Stiles prayed to anyone who would listen that Allison remembered the promise that she had made in their other life. If she didn't, if she fell in with Scott and the rest of the pack again, he didn't know what he would do.

Stiles couldn't sleep the night before Allison was due to arrive, and he showed up at school looking more than a little run-down, even with two cups of coffee in him. If Allison didn't remember him, there was no way she’d approach him looking like he did. He noticed that the day was playing out much as it had before, and by the time Allison walked into his classroom, Stiles's heart was beating so fast that both Scott and Jackson had shot him concerned looks. Stiles held his breath as she moved towards them...and sat in front of Stiles.

Completely ignoring the werewolf in the seat in front of her, she turned back to Stiles and smiled. “Hey. Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

It took everything in him not to grab her and hug her to death.

<> <>

Allison's life was markedly different this time around. She was still an excellent archer, and her parents were still hunters, but Allison had lost touch with her aunt once Kate had gone to prison, and the first time she had heard her grandfather say something about “killing wolves” as a kid she had jumped up and run out of the room, acting horrified that her grandpa would shoot defenseless animals. Allison taught herself to cry on cue and did so every time her grandfather mentioned hunting of any kind; it made Gerard so uncomfortable that he practically stopped visiting them altogether.

The biggest change in Allison's life, however, was not the things that were taken away, but the thing that was added: her baby sister Eve.

It was only because of Eve that Allison even considered fighting against the move to Beacon Hills, but Allison knew that Stiles would do everything in his power to keep their town safe, even to his own detriment, and she owed it to her friend to let him know that he wasn't alone.

When she walked into the classroom and saw Stiles looking exhausted but cautiously hopeful, she knew that she had made the right choice.

<> <>

Stiles and Allison quickly fell into a friendship that was not unlike the one they had before, and was in no way encumbered by the loss of Scott (though Stiles knew that both of them missed him). Instead, there were a lot of dinners at each other's houses, movie nights, and study sessions. Not counting the occasional research binge or surreptitious defense training, they led impressively normal lives.

It hurt Stiles's heart to watch Allison firmly but politely rebuff any efforts by Lydia and Jackson to join their group. Isaac was her lab partner in chemistry, but Allison never made an effort to be more than casual acquaintances with him. The one time Stiles had mentioned it, Allison had punched him in the arm and called him an idiot. They were going to get through this together, she said. End of story.

It didn't hurt that Eve absolutely adored Stiles. If he was in the room, Eve was in his arms. Or on his lap. Or hanging on to his leg like a koala if he tried to leave. Stiles had colored more pictures of princesses in the past few months than he had ever even seen in his other life. When they were in public together, Eve referred to him as her “big brother Stiles”, and would scowl at anyone who so much as looked at him cross-eyed. Despite everything, it made Stiles's heart melt just a little bit that someone could love him so unconditionally, even if that person wasn't Scott.

<> <>

When Boyd and Isaac disappeared, Stiles and Allison realized that the alpha pack had arrived. The two of them warned their respective dads, and the Argents reached out to the Hales to offer their help in defeating the alphas and rescuing the two boys. Allison carefully fed her parents information about the alphas, while the Sheriff worked overtime to keep Jennifer Blake out of not only the high school, but the county in general.

The cat and mouse game between the alpha pack and the Hales was just as long and ridiculous as it had been the first time, though without the deaths or near-deaths. Deucalion bit both Boyd and Isaac, but he, and everyone other than Ethan, were ultimately killed by the Hales.

Stiles was glad that everyone was okay, but Boyd becoming a werewolf made it increasingly impossible to be near him. He lasted for two days before he had to run out of class when the wolf accidentally brushed against him.

The next day, Boyd had already partnered with someone else by the time Stiles got to class, but nodded in greeting when he passed. Ten minutes later, he got a text.

 _I_ _know that something is going on, and I think it's probably been going on for a long time. I won't push, but if you need me, I will always be your friend_.

Stiles refused to cry until he got home.

<> <>

Two days after his alpha boyfriend left town, Danny sat down at Stiles and Allison's lunch table and said, “I want in.”

“What,” Stiles sputtered, nearly knocking over his drink.

“It's obvious that you two know about the little werewolf problem. I don't know why you’ve pushed everyone away, but I want to help.”

“We don't know what you're talking about,” Stiles said flatly.

“I know that Ethan was a werewolf, okay? It wasn't that hard to figure out. I don't why Jackson and Lydia thought that they could keep this from me, but honestly, I'm kind of insulted. Whatever kind of weird, non-supernatural pact you have going on, sign me up.”

The two friends exchanged glances. Allison shrugged. “Fine. Come to my house after school,” Stiles said. “Bring snacks.”

They told him everything. Maybe it was Danny’s trustworthy face, or maybe the two of them were just desperate for another in-the-know friend in their age group, but they spent the next three hours eating and recounting the craziness that had been their lives up to that point.

After the first hour, Danny actually started taking notes.

“So, does that mean that the nogitsune is going to show up next?” Danny asked, closing the door behind the delivery guy.

“If it does, it won't be possessing any of us. Dad took care of Miss Blake, so there weren't any sacrifices.”

“Plus, Kira's mom was the one who let it out last time, and I don't think they're in town yet,” Allison added.

“If they come at all,” Stiles finished.

“Okay, so,” Danny jotted down a few more notes, “after the nogitsune comes the dead pool.”

“Peter was never in a coma, and he's pretty normal, from what my dad tells me,” Stiles said. “So if it happens, it’ll be different.”

“So we’re just waiting, then?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Welcome to our world.”

<> <>

Thankfully, the nogitsune didn't get out of the nemeton, and surprisingly, the Yukimuras didn't show up, either. Unfortunately, the next person to show up in town was Gerard Argent, who created the dead pool as a way to avenge what he saw as the terrible injustice done to his daughter.

As soon as her grandfather had shown up at her front door, Allison knew exactly what was happening. Within thirty minutes of his arrival, she had texted both Stiles and Danny with her suspicions and the two of them had gotten to work. Stiles told his dad to be on the lookout for new people in town (and started listening in on his police radio), and Danny started looking for ways to shut down the list.

It took Allison, Danny, and Stiles (with assistance from the Sheriff and his deputies) eighty-one hours to decode the dead pool list and take it offline. Actually, it took about thirty hours to take down the list; the rest was spent digging up dirt on Gerard and his associates and creating an impressive paper trail that would put them in prison for a long time.

No supernatural assistance necessary.

<> <>

“Stiles, are you allergic to werewolves?”

Stiles did his best to hide his flinch, but he knew that Eve caught it when her eyes widened. “Don't worry, we won't tell anybody!” She reached up to hug him, and he gave her a soft smile. “It's just Alicia and Malia and I were talking about how you get sick around werewolves, but, like, you still help them anyway like you did with the dead pool stuff.”

Stiles was pretty sure that if he looked in a mirror right then, his eyes would be bugging out. He was going to have to tell Ally to be more careful around her sister if Eve was old enough to pay attention to Beacon Hills shenanigans, now. “How do you know about the dead pool?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

“Malia’s dad believes in being prepared,” Eve replied, and Stiles couldn't help but smirk. “So _are_ you allergic to werewolves?”

Stiles thought about what a poor, poor description that was for what he felt before he smiled at Eve. “Sure,” he said.

<> <>

Danny and Allison had been helping him keep an eye out for Theo in recent weeks. Even if many of the things Theo had coveted the last time--void, dark kitsune, true alpha--were missing, Stiles knew that the curse wouldn't be kind enough to let this opportunity for mayhem pass.

Thankfully, rather than freaking out, Stiles only felt a sense of profound dread when he saw Theo walk into his classroom one morning. Boyd and Lydia were the only pack members in this class, but Stiles almost cringed at the thought of how much negative emotion had to be pouring off of him, and Lydia had to have noticed both Stiles's reaction to Theo and Boyd's reaction to Stiles.

He really didn't want to know what kind of vibes Lydia was getting from he and Theo right now.

Worse, Stiles's reaction to Theo didn't include what Theo made him feel. If the Hales were stabbing headaches and his pack were crushed hearts, the chimera made him feel like he was being electrocuted and drowned at the same time, even from across the room.

By the time class was over, Stiles was shaking minutely all over, and he really liked the idea of going home and hiding under his covers until somebody took Theo’s head off. He settled for running out of class as quickly as he could, practically knocking over some of his classmates in the process.

He didn't see the deeply concerned looks that passed between his former friends as he shot out the door.

Over the next few weeks, the banshee and the werewolf watched the interactions between Stiles and Theo. It became obvious very quickly that Theo enjoyed stalking Stiles and making him uncomfortable, and Allison, Danny, and the Sheriff didn't bother being subtle when it came to keeping the two boys apart. At one point, Boyd even heard Coach Finstock threaten Theo with a harassment suit on Stiles's behalf if he didn't back off. When no one was around to intervene, however, Theo was always right next to Stiles, whispering to him and pressing little touches into his skin that made Stiles jump and gasp every time, and not in a good way.

On the other hand, Theo had presented himself to Alpha Hale almost immediately, talking about the death of his sister and his need to get away from the place of her demise and start somewhere new. He gained permission to stay in the territory and finish high school, and quickly fell in with Scott and the others.

Scott had been devastated when Stiles had ended their friendship, but still, it made Lydia sad to hear Theo speak so poorly of Stiles and have Scott barely react at all. For all that Stiles had pushed them away, Stiles had never actively tried to hurt them.

This Theo person was deliberately trying to hurt Stiles, and for some strange reason, Stiles wasn't doing anything to stop him. Knowing that Stiles would just avoid them if they pushed--and that Allison was completely loyal to her friend--Lydia and Boyd eventually decided to go to Danny for answers.

Lydia and Jackson had been over to Danny’s plenty of times before, so Danny's mother happily let her and Boyd into the house before giving them an impressive armful of snacks and shooing them upstairs.

“You know what's going on with Stiles and you're going to tell us what it is,” Lydia announced imperiously as soon as she walked in the room.

“You mean, the way you and Jackson told me about werewolves?” he asked, unperturbed. “Don't worry, Stiles didn't tell me. You guys aren't exactly subtle.” He nodded for the two of them to sit down.

“What are you doing?” Boyd asked, noticing the information about Theo on Danny's computer.

“I'm trying to figure out who Theo is working for this time.”

“This time?” Lydia shouted, and Danny flinched. Boyd held out a snack mix in apology.

“Look,” Danny sighed. “I can't tell you anything; I don't want Stiles to get hurt just because I can't keep my mouth shut. Just know that he loves you guys a lot, okay?”

The werewolf and the banshee already knew that, of course, but it meant something to have Danny remind them of it.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Boyd asked quietly.

“Try to keep Theo away from Stiles as much as possible until we figure this thing out.”

Lydia's smile was sharp. “Consider it done.”

<> <>

Stiles was choking on his panic even as he ran towards the library. He knew what this was, what it represented. It didn't matter that this time that he had already called his dad. It didn't matter that it was Theo, not Donovan, who was chasing him. It didn't even matter that Scott wasn't part of the equation.

His brain knew, his body knew, that this was one of those times when everything had gone horribly wrong, and he didn't have any idea about how to fix it.

“Come on, Stiles,” Theo said silkily as Stiles hid behind some bookcases. “Why don't you make this easy on yourself? Just give up.”

Stiles barely let himself breathe as Theo stalked through the library.

“You probably thought you were clever, using the banshee to distract me, but we both know that's not how it works.”

The footsteps were getting closer, and Stiles froze. “You’ve been in pain for so long, why don't you just...let go. I'll make it quick. I promise I'll even be a good friend to Scott when you're gone.”

Theo's hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed his arm, and everything turned into ribbons of grey. He would have screamed if he’d had the breath, but he choked instead as the lightning shot through his body. Stiles tried to pull away, but his body was convulsing too much to obey and then Theo grabbed his other arm and everything went white.

<> <>

Lydia couldn't understand what she was seeing. Theo only had one hand on Stiles, and Stiles looked like he was _dying_ , like it was literally killing him to be touched.

She and Boyd had found out the hard way how difficult it was to stop a chimera from doing something, especially one as focused as Theo. Still, they had done their best to distract Theo away from Stiles, to the point that it had been brought up at the last pack meeting.

Lydia feared that she and Boyd had only made it worse, considering the chimera was trying to kill Stiles at the moment.

The clang of pipes interrupted her reverie as Theo tossed Stiles carelessly into the scaffolding, and Lydia fought down the growing urge to scream. Tossing Boyd a look, she ran to Stiles, trusting Boyd to take care of the chimera.

Lydia dropped to the floor and pulled Stiles into her lap, pressing trembling fingers to his neck to search for a pulse. Stiles moaned weakly, but didn't open his eyes, and Lydia was alarmed to feel her friend’s pulse slowing even as she felt for it.

“Lydia, don't!” Allison's sudden voice rang clear, even over the fighting, and the banshee frowned at the other girl. “You're hurting him. You have to stop touching him!”

Allison fell to her knees beside Stiles and forcibly pulled him from Lydia's arms. “Go help Boyd if you have to, but don't touch Stiles. You shouldn't be this close, anyway,” she murmured, and Lydia stared at her in shock.

“What--”

There was a loud noise, and the two girls looked up in time to see Boyd drive Theo backwards onto a jutting piece of metal with a satisfying grunt.

Boyd barely took two steps toward them before Allison stopped him. “Please, don't come any closer,” she said, “the closer you come to Stiles right now, the more likely he is to die.”

“Stiles? Where's my son?”

Sheriff Stilinski ran into the library, Deputy Parrish on his heels. The two men took in the scene--Stiles unconscious, Theo dead--before the Sheriff rushed to his son and scooped him up.

“I can carry him for you Sheriff,” Parrish offered, moving to take Stiles from his dad's arms, only to have the other man turn away from him.

“I appreciate the offer, Deputy, but you really can't.” Parrish had recently come into his phoenix powers, and the Sheriff wasn't about to take a chance with his son’s life. “If you feel compelled to get rid of Theo’s body, though, I won't stop you.”

And with that, the Sheriff, Stiles, and Allison left three very confused members of the Hale pack behind.

<> <>

Ninety minutes after the confrontation in the library, Boyd and Lydia walked into the Hale house and into the middle of a pack meeting already in progress. Talia took one look at their faces and told them to sit down.

“What happened?”

“Theo tried to kill Stiles,” Lydia announced tonelessly, slumping into Jackson's lap. “He’s dead now. Also, I'm pretty sure that Sheriff Stilinski is not as ignorant about the supernatural as he appears.”

“He told Jordan that he could get rid of Theo’s body if he wanted to,” Boyd said pointedly.

Everyone took a minute to digest that before Erica spoke up. “Was that why you two have been following Stiles around for the last couple of weeks, because you thought Theo was dangerous?”

Boyd shrugged. “We have more classes with Stiles than the rest of you, so we could see the kind of effect Theo was having on him.”

Jackson opened his mouth, probably to complain about how Stiles had abandoned them, but a sharp glance from Lydia made him shut his mouth again without a word. “Whatever you think about Stiles not being involved with the pack, that was his choice to make. He's never done anything to hurt any of us.”

“Except walk away,” Scott said glumly.

“I don't think he had a choice,” Boyd countered, and that got everyone's attention.

“What do you mean?” Talia asked, suddenly wary of the possibility of a long-term supernatural threat.

“Didn't anyone ever think it was odd that the only people that have been turned into werewolves in this town are people in our friend group?” Lydia looked around the room. “That Stiles brought us together--people with nothing in common--like he knew that we were going to need each other? That he told Scott that he was a werewolf before Talia did? That when Allison came, the two of them clicked like they had known each other for years?”

“Alicia says that Stiles is allergic to werewolves,” Boyd jumped in. “And based on how Allison and the Sheriff tried to keep us away from Stiles tonight, I think she’s partially right.”

Talia considered their observations, remembering her own disastrous encounter with the Stilinski boy, and nodded. “We’ll need to have a talk with the Stilinskis soon, then. Hopefully, we can get one of them to talk to us.”

“Good luck with that,” Lydia murmured. Boyd snorted.

<> <>

Stiles was discharged from the hospital less than twenty-four hours after being admitted, but he stayed home from school for the rest of the week, with Allison and Eve visiting every day after school and Danny calling him at least once a night. The Sheriff stayed home as well, and dodged Deputy Parrish’s well-meaning phone calls.

“So the next big thing to come along will be the fairies, right?” Stiles's dad asked during their Saturday night movie marathon.

“Should be, unless there was a lot of fighting that Derek didn't tell us about while we were away at school.”

“And you didn't have any trouble at college?”

“No, but it doesn't matter. Last time, I didn't go to school with Allison and Danny; plus, it's a completely different school.”

The Sheriff tugged his son in for a one-armed hug. “As long as you're happy, kid.”

Stiles snorted. “Ask me again in two years.”

<> <>

The rest of the school year passed without incident, aside from a troublesome nest of pixies that the Hale pack dispatched of before they'd even had a chance to settle. Stiles, Danny, and Allison relaxed into a weird kind of peace despite the constant and less-than-subtle surveillance they seemed to be under, while the adults of the Hale pack tried increasingly underhanded ways to get the Sheriff to admit that he knew that they were werewolves. Each time, he gave a variation of one of two responses: “I trust Stiles” or “I believe in the truth”, neither of which seemed the least bit helpful.

The day of graduation, Lydia showed up at Stiles's house about forty minutes before they needed to leave for the school. He invited her inside easily enough, but the banshee noticed that Stiles made no move to touch her--though he watched her almost hungrily--and made an effort to stay a few feet away from her at all times.

“Stiles,” she asked slowly,” do you want to hug me?”

He didn't move. “Yes.”

“ _Can_ you hug me?”

A resigned, and much softer “yes” this time.

“Will it _hurt_ you to hug me?”

Lydia saw the flash of pain in his eyes just before he started clutching his throat and gasping. The banshee leaped forward to help him, only to have Stiles scramble back to put more distance between them.

“Stiles, what do you want me to do?” Lydia cried, panicked. “Do you want me to call your dad?” A minute shake of the head. “Allison or Danny?” Stiles didn't answer, just crawled back until he was propped against the kitchen cabinets, breathing shallowly and staring at Lydia.

What seemed like an eternity later, Stiles's breathing calmed but he made no move to get off of the floor. Lydia, in a gesture of support, sat down on the floor as well, not moving any closer, but staying within her friend's line of sight.

Lydia spared a brief thought for graduation, where she and Stiles were both supposed to be speaking, but ultimately dismissed it. She’d get her diploma regardless of whether she went to the ceremony, so it really didn't matter.

The front door opened, and a harried looking Sheriff stepped in, obviously looking for Stiles. “Are you ready to--?” he broke off as he spotted his son. He glanced briefly at Lydia turning back to Stiles.

“You’d better go if you want to get to graduation on time,” the Sheriff pointed out, not unkindly, before sliding down next to his son and settling him against his side.

“I'd rather stay, if you don't mind. Can you please tell me what's going on?”

“I can't,” the man said regretfully, running gentle fingers through his boy’s hair. “But if everything happens the way it's supposed to, you’ll find out the truth in a couple of years.” The Sheriff gave a tired sigh and pulled Stiles to his feet.

“You’ll always be my friend, Lydia,” Stiles stated simply as his dad helped him up the stairs.

<> <>

That day was the last time that Lydia had seen Stiles in the last two years, though Danny always updated her on both Stiles, and surprisingly Allison, every time they spoke. Lydia also kept in close contact her pack, coming home for every holiday, but Boyd was the only one that Lydia updated on her “Stiles Watch”, as Danny jokingly referred to it.

Just before vacation at the end of her sophomore year, Lydia found out about the fairy troupe that was negotiating passage through Beacon Hills. The banshee threw herself into research in between studying for finals, and she felt confident as she went home that the visit would be a successful one.

<> <>

According to the research, the Queen would be arriving with a handful of guards and her brother Eamon, who also happened to be one of her most trusted advisors.

“Well met, Your Majesty,” Talia said easily, the rest of the pack fanned out behind her. “Welcome to Hale territory. I am sure that our dealings will be mutually beneficial to the both of us.”

“Indeed.” She gave a sly grin. “Although it seems the pack has grown much since last we came.” She nodded regally to both Derek and Peter, who only stared at her with wide eyes. Everyone else who saw the gestures were startled as well, though most covered in up quickly. It was never a good idea to let a fairy know that they knew something that you didn't.

“Shall we go inside for some refreshments?” Peter asked, trying to both bring the proceedings back on track, and figure out why he and Derek had been singled out.

“In a moment,” the Queen said imperiously, and everyone stilled. “May has been looking forward to seeing Stiles. Is he not here?”

“What's Stiles have to do with anything?” one of the newer betas, Liam, asked from where he was standing next to Scott.

“He used to be a friend of ours,” Isaac added, throwing a glare at Liam.

“Used to be?” The Queen took in the assembled group with a critical eye, and more than one wolf shrank away from her gaze. “What mischief is this?”

Gazes were exchanged around the yard, but no one knew how to answer her.

“Stiles has never been a part of this pack, Your Majesty,” Lydia spoke up from the sidelines. “But that's not how it's supposed to be, is it?”

She beckoned to Lydia, and the banshee stepped forward. “Let me see.”

Lydia held as still as she could while the Queen combed through her memory. All at once, her vision cleared. She swayed, and then Cora was there to guide her away from the angry fairy.

In fact, the Queen’s looked positively murderous. “I granted a boon,” she seethed, “yet someone has meddled with my gift. There are few who could do such a thing,” the guards shifted nervously, obviously affected by their queen’s unease, “and only one such person who was there that day.”

Faster than most of the pack’s eyes could follow, the Queen turned to her brother and wrapped her fingers around his throat. He struggled and gurgled ineffectually until two of the guards stepped forward to take him from her.

“How dare you defy me!” she yelled, eyes flashing.

“You let sentimentality cloud your judgement,” he sneered, “I was merely correcting your mistake!”

“You forget once again, brother, that I am the Queen, and now you shall pay the price for your treachery.”

Completely ignoring the wolves around her, the Queen snapped her fingers, and suddenly Stiles was standing next to her.

Stiles took one look at the Queen, sucked in a sharp breath, and then let it out slowly. “Hello, Your Majesty,” he said politely.

“Poor, sweet child,” she said, caressing his cheek. “You did us a great service, and we treated you most cruelly for it.”

Stiles wanted to tell her that it was okay, but it really wasn't, so he stayed silent. Her eyes softened as she stared at him. “The way to the break the curse,” she said gently, “is to kill the caster.” She slipped a long dagger into his hand and closed his fingers around it. “It is your right.”

Lydia expected Stiles to hesitate, but he moved like he had held a knife many times before, and plunged the dagger into the prince’s heart even as the other man opened his mouth to speak.

Before the body had even finished falling, it and two of the guards vanished.

“Is it over?” Stiles breathed, even as Lydia threw herself into his arms. He flinched, like he expected pain, before his arms tightened around her almost too tightly.

“Does no one know?” the Queen asked, surveying all the curious and shocked faces around them.

“Allison remembers,” he said hesitantly. “A lot of things were...better this time.”

“Not for you,” Lydia chimed in knowingly.

The Queen looked at the two friends and gave a resolute nod. “When things are not so jagged, I shall grant you a new boon,” she said, placing her fingers against his lips when he started to object. “Things will be better in the morning, you’ll see.” Stiles just clutched at Lydia harder.

“We shall visit again soon,” she said kindly, and vanished without a trace.

<> <>

Late the next morning, Stiles woke up, buried underneath the weight of his old pack: his face in Derek’s neck and Scott's arms slung over his back. He didn't even mind that Erica's hair was in his mouth and Jackson's foot was jammed uncomfortably into his kidneys.

If he started sobbing into his pillow a few seconds later, well, his packmates just pet his hair and let him have his moment. When the endless thanks of the Hale family eventually got to be too much, one of them made him laugh about something in their lives before. And if his packmates wouldn't let him out their sights for months afterwards, well, then, that was their prerogative.

<> <>

In the heat of the summer, the Queen returned, leading an older but still adorable child by the hand.

Stiles broke into a smile the second he saw her. “Hey, May,” he said easily. “How do you feel about ice cream?”

“Stiles!” the girl cried, running into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the poem "The Listeners" by Walter de la Mare.
> 
> Next week: a Peter/Stiles fic, a crossover, and another story for _witch's brew_.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
